Wednesday, March 04, 2009

poem Catastrophe's Apostrophe


Do without. I love
my light but could live

with darkened hallways
and dimmer living

quarters. The current
recedes. The quiet

and anxiety
are insomnia:

3am’s summons
to rise up and stay

risen. Pace it out.
They’re here: The Dreamtime

Australians. They
act in movies. They

helped Nicole Kidman
wrestle a stubborn

continent for small
symbolic boon. Pace

it post-Africa:
Forty thousand years

times twenty-five miles
a day on foot means

they could have made it
to Jupiter or

twice the Sun and back.
Ancient as they need

be. Meet and mettle
companions for a

traveling. Our first
to orient. Fit

for boomerang treks
upon lost plains of

dun and trackless black